I had a chat with my African friend this morning, who is a Christian. We differ on a few views. It’s his daughter’s birthday this week, and he wants to do a party for her, inviting the whole street to his boutique, and showing the Jesus film, and no doubt he will preach afterwards, possibly offending many of his muslim neighbours, possibly speaking to people’s hearts, possibly welcomed, possibly rejected. I said wow you have big ideas. I said sometimes we have different methods. For example, we don’t focus on ‘becoming a Christian’ – what is a Christian even? There are many Christians here that are in fact not at all following Jesus – they practice magic arts and have a love of money or a love of women… there are many problems. Personally, we try not to cause any more division between Muslim and Christian, “us” and “them” - we want to encourage people to follow Jesus, just as we are trying to follow Jesus… have you read the book “Speaking of Jesus – the art of non-evangelism” by Carl Medearis?
He went on to talk about the difference between being a Christian here and being a Christian in ‘Europe’ – although he was referring to the western church, and did refer to us. We don’t have any worries of being hungry, being sick, not being able to pay for our home. To be a Christian in Africa is very different and very difficult, he says. To be praying to God but distracted with how to get enough money to pay rent, or to try and pray but have an empty stomache. No, I don’t know what that’s like. I can’t compare my faith to theirs. There is so much I don’t understand. Walking back I am approached by a friend asking for money, for the bus fare back to his village. There is only two out of literally all our local friends (a quick head count is more than 15) who has not asked us for money – usually to borrow, but never pay back. No matter what we do, we will never be seen as equal. Our white skin declares financial security, an obligation to share our finances with those we are in community with. My faith is seen as easy, because I have food and money and a home. Is it? Why is the only thing valued that I give, money? There is no point saying that we give love and friendship but keep our wallets to ourselves – it is a contradiction in this culture. If you are friends, you share money. We love to be generous, but we want to be wise, and then there are lots of times where it feels like a punch in the guts and that’s all I’m good for. I didn’t come to Niger to give money?! I came to give Jesus! What did Jesus do? He didn’t give money, that is recorded. But then He possibly didn’t have any to give – he didn’t live in a nice house with a room for each member of the family. We are supposed to buy furniture when we come back, the house we are in is currently furnished by SIM furniture that we rent. So we have begun a little – a bed for each of the kids. But then our friend comes to visit and he is working like a slave at the hospital earning the equivalent of $2 a day, to feed his family and pay rent and never mind the rest. So he is hungry, and so are his family. So it makes you feel bad to go and buy a couch. Even though we were going to buy a second hand one for a third of the price, and even though we have already lent/given this friend the same amount of money as the couch would cost. But now there is no peace in buying a couch. Will any of these things ever be reconcilable? I doubt it. A constant tension. A constant comparison. All manner of benchmarks in the bible – take your pick. And soon we will be back in Australia, dramatically inundated with wealth. I am so keen for weetbix and sausages and cheese and icecream and chocolate. And my friends will tell me I deserve it, I’ve been living in the desert for 18months. But I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve anything. Do the people that live here and don’t eat deserve it? What are your thoughts?
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AuthorWe are Brad, Andy, Hunter and Belle. Hoping to keep you connected! Archives
May 2019
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